


Burnt

by HephaistionsThighs



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Graphic Description, Happy Ending, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mental Health Issues, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 08:45:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17019483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HephaistionsThighs/pseuds/HephaistionsThighs
Summary: Shiro snaps out of the nightmare.  The smell of Keith’s burning flesh is overpowering, stronger than it has ever been in his dreams, stronger even than it was that day.“Shiro, please!”  Keith’s voice is choked, desperate, and real.  He’s right in front of him, trapped against Shiro’s chest by the white-hot arm holding him tight.-Shiro burns Keith, and it breaks the dam holding his trauma back.





	Burnt

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: graphic descriptions of injuries, detailed suicidal thoughts
> 
> Again, WARNING for SUICIDE TRIGGERS
> 
> This is canon divergent from the end of Season 6 - instead of flying to Earth in the Lions, the team gets a new ship and Shiro gets a new arm. This has nothing to do with the recent Season 8, aside from it providing me with the angsty mind space to finish this.

_“Shiro, please! I love you!”_

_Keith’s voice, straining against the effort of pushing away Shiro’s death blow, begging him not to do it. It echoes over and over again on a loop Shiro can’t escape, shaking apart every foundation he has._

_The smell of Keith’s burning flesh._

_It never gets to the appearance of the Black Bayard and Keith’s bittersweet victory. His mind is never freed._

_“Shiro, please! I love you!” The smell of Keith’s burning flesh._

_The only break in the loop comes when things that didn’t happen - didn’t happen, did not happen, could not have happened, no - show up instead. Keith’s grip slips and the quintessent blade drags through his jaw, his neck, his clavicle, searing through to the floor. Or Shiro’s arm transforms from the sword to the cannon and Keith is gone in a flash. Horrible alternate versions of what could have happened, almost did._

_But mostly it’s the same thing: The truth. The long mark forming across Keith’s cheek and his cry of pain._

_“Shiro, please! I love you!” The smell of Keith’s burning flesh._

_“Shiro, please! I love you!” The smell of Keith’s burning flesh._

“Shiro— Shiro stop! Stop, stop! Wake up!”

Shiro snaps out of the nightmare. He’s in their bed on Team Voltron’s new ship, a sleek Olkari vessel.

The smell of Keith’s burning flesh is overpowering, stronger than it has ever been in his dreams, stronger even than it was that day.

“Shiro, please!” Keith’s voice is choked, desperate, and real. He’s right in front of him, trapped against Shiro’s chest by the white-hot arm holding him tight.

Shiro gasps and the arm switches off. “No!” He rips the arm away from Keith, and the sticking-tearing sensation of it pulling off of his lover’s ruined skin is almost enough to make him sick.

Pidge, Hunk, and the Olkari worked together to make him a new arm after they removed what remained of the Galra one. It has the same weaponized ability, but the neural link is strictly one-way - he can command the arm, it can’t be used to command him. It was supposed to be safe.

“Keith!” He scrambles away from him, but at the same time uses his left hand to turn him onto his back. There’s a huge diagonal burn roughly the shape of his own arm spanning from just above Keith’s right hip to his left shoulder. Keith’s hands are burned from trying to pry him off.

“No, god, baby— I’m sorry! I—”

Keith’s trembling with pain and physical shock, he can’t seem to speak anymore. His eyes look scared.

Pod. Now, right now. Shiro has to only think about that, because if he allows any other thought about was just happened, he’ll freeze. As it is, his own body is shaking so badly it makes him clumsy. He wraps an arm around Keith’s back and pulls him up. When he has them both sitting on the edge of their bed, he has to make a choice. If Keith can walk, he can lift and support him with just his left arm. He’s been keeping the right one away, terrified of touching him, enough so to override the fact that he’s awake now and the metal is dark and cool. But the risk of dropping him, the thought of how much that could hurt him, outweighs that fear.

He wipes his right hand off on his boxers, scattering flakes of char onto their bedding. The entire anterior forearm is covered, but there’s no time. He tucks it under Keith’s knees and lifts him.

It’s not as easy as it once was, but it doesn’t matter. The halls outside are dark and quiet - they have a suite separated from the others, ostensibly because they’re the joint commanders, but really for privacy. No one heard the screaming.

“It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.” Shiro doesn’t believe this at all, but he keeps up a continuous murmur of reassurances. He wants to pull Keith’s mind away from the pain as much as possible. He knows the younger man is going into shock, feels his skin grow cold under his hands and the sweat dripping off him despite this. He knows burns kill by dehydration.

He opens a pod one-handed, and lays Keith inside. He’s only wearing his boxers, and Shiro feels odd guilt at essentially leaving him on display. But there’s worse to see. In the morning, everyone will see what he’s done.

Keith’s lips move; Shiro can see his name there. Keith tangles their fingers together, swallows, and finds his voice: “I love you.”

Now Shiro can’t speak. All he can manage is a nod. He sets Keith’s hand down and closes the pod. He watches his eye drift shut, the tension leave his expression. As soon as the light changes to indicate he’s fully in cryosleep, Shiro loses it.

All the emotion he held back to ensure Keith’s survival hits him as full-body sobs. He sits beside the pod, shoulders heaving and arm wrapped around his knees. He tries to be quiet - the last thing he wants is for the team to find him like this. He isn’t ready to explain what he did. He doesn’t want to see how they’ll react.

But he can’t. He makes short, aborted attempts at taking slower breaths, or even holding his breath, but they’re interrupted by more loud, loud sobs. He clamps a hand over his own mouth to muffle the sound.

It takes several minutes for exhaustion to finally stop the crying. He wishes Keith’s wolf was here, just for something to hold, something that loves him and isn’t able to judge him. But Kosmo is able to teleport all the way back to the cosmic whale where he was born, so he sometimes goes home for a few days at a time. Wolves belong in the woods. As Shiro sits thinking about it, he decides he should be glad for the beast’s absence. He imagines him somehow smelling Keith through the pod and whimpering in worry. Or else smelling Keith’s burnt skin on him and lunging for his throat.

He sits in silence for a long time.

He turns to look back at Keith through the fogged glass of the pod. The burn really is terrible. It leaves a wide, gory dip in Keith’s body, roughly a third of the surface of his chest and abdomen.

Tears start welling up again. He wants to say he’s sorry, even though Keith can’t hear him right now. He just needs to say it, because he keeps feeling it, so intensely and repetitively. There’s a vice on his throat, though. 

He didn’t mean to do this. Through the horror, panic, shame, there’s also anger. He didn’t want to hurt Keith. He didn’t choose to. Never in his life has he chosen to harm him, but it keeps happening. He’s been forced to try to kill him, to punch him, to shoot at him, to burn him. He has no control over his own body.

The doctors told him that first, not in exactly those words, and he strove to prove them wrong. Then the Galra told him. He escaped and thought he’d proven them wrong too. Of course he hadn’t. He thought it was over, but now this…

He looks at Keith again. He can’t stay here. It feels like he should, some instinct to keep watch and not leave him alone, but Keith doesn’t need company to heal. And Shiro’s realizing he’s the last person who can truly protect him.

He walks. He’s also only wearing his sleep attire - boxers and a tank top - and the ambient cold is biting. It’s warmer in their rooms and warmer during the day, but the hallways at night have no need for it. He could go back to their room, to dress and wash the gore off him, but he doesn’t.

Their new ship isn’t as large as the Castle, but it’s still built to be a garrison or refugee housing as needed. He’s in a state as he walks, the sort that he finds himself suddenly snapping out of without being sure how much time has passed or where exactly he is. He’s in a hallway lined with airlocks, meant to dock several smaller ships.

He walks into one and hits a button, retracting the outer shield and leaving only glass between him and the stars. He hoped they’d calm him, center him, but it doesn’t work. There’s a big difference between looking at the sky with Keith, hopeful for their future, and looking at it alone, remembering all that his love for it has cost him.

Every bad thought is piling up inside him. There’s no escape from everything that’s been done to him. There’s no escape from everything he’s done. His original goal of peacefully exploring space, then his new goal of protecting the people of the universe… both feel out of reach. 

The constant repetitive whir of the air circulation is driving him crazy, an extra agitation grating his already raw nerves. He hits another button and seals the airlock shut behind him. Finally, silence. There’s no fresh air supply in here, but there’s plenty to breathe for at least a few hours. He just needs… a few moments.

He looks down at his hand, the mechanical one. The weapon. But what the hell is the rest of him now, but that? This isn’t his real body. It’s a weapon, made by the Galra Empire to destroy their enemies. To destroy the people Shiro loves.

Shiro looks at his left hand, flesh and blood, opening and closing it. Is he really himself, inside this thing? How does he know he’s not some simulation from stolen memories? The clone thought he was him, too. He’s a thing designed to hurt people. 

He became a weapon long before this body, before the real Shiro died. In surviving the gladiatorial arena, he became the Empire’s tool for violence. He thought it was better than death. Now he’s not sure.

Everything is painful. Even his good memories, even the things that predate Kerberos, even his most glowing hopes. He’s panicking, spiraling; his thoughts go round and round without any exit or hope of changing direction. Their circle tightens, closes like a noose around his neck. He can’t breathe.

He eyes the wall to his right. There’s a single button embedded there. It’s red and covered by a clear lid to protect it from accidental bumps.

It would be so easy. He can stop himself from hurting ever again, just like that - both senses of the word, hurting others and being hurt. He can make this choice. A real choice, his own. He doesn’t have to be used or part of a “greater purpose,” good or evil.

He slowly reaches over, flips up the lid, and holds his finger just over the button. The same synthetic digits that just burned their marks deep into the flesh of the man he loves.

He pauses. He stares at the button, then out at the stars. He’s not deluded enough to think it won’t be a painful death. But it won’t take that long, and then it might be a kind of peace, floating among the stars forever. It’s the only way he’ll ever truly be free. It’s the only way he can truly protect Keith.

There’s a slam against the door behind him. “Shiro!”

Keith’s standing there, eyes wide. His wound has already closed slightly from the pod, but it’s bleeding in places where the cauterized tissue has torn from movement. He goes to open the door between them, but Shiro’s faster, lunging for the lock on his side and slamming it.

They stare at each other. “Shiro… Please, what are you doing?” Keith presses his hand against the window pleadingly, but it’s the wrong move, Shiro flinches at the sight of his red and blackened palm.

It takes Shiro a moment to ask instead, “Why aren’t you in the pod?” His voice is quiet, soft.

Keith is shaking. “I woke up. Something was wrong.” Shiro will have to chalk it up to that special sensitivity Keith occasionally shows signs of. He’s unique, valuable, shouldn’t be risked to save Shiro over and over.

“Shiro, please… Please, come out of there.” Shiro’s never seen him look so scared. He saw what he was about to do.

Shiro swallows. “I can’t keep hurting people.” It’s the most concise explanation he can attempt. His eyes dart to the button again. He’s ashamed of being caught, but if anything he feels even more cornered.

“You didn’t hurt me! It was an accident! They must have made the arm too sensitive to your mind… They can fix it! It’s not your fault!”

Shiro’s too stressed to fully debate that argument. “You have to go, Keith. Go back to the pod.”

“Come with me,” Keith begs.

Shiro shakes his head. “I’m sorry… I can’t. Please go.” Keith’s still extremely injured, he could collapse at any moment, and Shiro doesn’t want him to see this. He lifts the clear lid over the button again.

“No! Shiro, Shiro, please, don’t, please don’t!” Keith falls to his knees.

The last thing he wants is to cause Keith more pain, but he’s still hoping he will just… “Leave me. Get out of here.”

Keith doesn’t stop his litany, tears falling freely now. “Please don’t. Please don’t. Please don’t.” It’s painful to see him beg. Keith always had his pride, no matter what the world thought of him or threw at him. “I love you,” Keith chokes, “so much.”

“I’m not worth it. Not anymore.” His hand is shaking over the button. His heart is frantic in his chest. He needs Keith to understand and to just let him die, again and for good. He leans, extending to touch the solution to his every problem.

“STOP!” Keith’s voice is forceful, determined almost to anger. “Listen to me!” He struggles to stand, using the door to pull himself up, then has to catch his breath. “You. Are a good. Fucking. Person. You’re the best person I know. You died to take down Zarkon, to free trillions of people from him.”

Shiro pulls away from the button slightly, finally meeting Keith’s eyes again.

“Your choices are what define you, and they’re the choices of a hero. Zarkon, Haggar… they don’t get to tell you who or what you are. They wanted to defeat you but they never could. It’s not your fault that they took your arm.”

Shiro feels his breath stutter, and he starts crying too. He lets his hand fall back to his side.

Keith’s sweating, clearly in a lot of pain, but it’s even more clear he’s not going anywhere. “None of it’s your fault, Shiro. The bad things they did to you didn’t make you bad. You deserve to live… You deserve it so much, so much I can’t even… I love you. I love you more than ever because of all the things you’ve done.”

It takes a couple of tries for Shiro to speak. “Okay,” he says. It’s a simple and even odd reply to such emotional pronouncements, but he’s weak from emotional exhaustion and he’s just trying to say that he’s heard Keith. If there’s anyone he can believe, it’s Keith. It’s enough to make him surrender. He’s not going to kill himself tonight.

“Will you please let me in there?”

Shiro nods, feeling one level of tension leave him, and unlocks and opens the door. Keith falls in, managing to stay upright, and pulls Shiro into a jarring hug.

“Don’t, the burn—” Shiro weakly tries to stop him, but it’s ineffective.

Keith holds him tight, one hand running through his short hair soothingly. “I’m so sorry.” He sobs, and repeats it.

Shiro wants to protest that Keith has nothing to apologize for, but he doesn’t want to argue now. Keith’s sorry for all the agony Shiro went through that night, for suffering so severe it led him to almost make that irreversible decision. Shiro hugs him back, and they cry together.

After they run out of tears for the time being, they slowly make their way back to healing pods. Keith tries to walk on his own briefly, but it’s too much.

As Shiro carries him, the guilt creeps back. With the adrenaline of Keith’s fear for him wearing off, his light tremors turn to shakes, his hands are curled like they want to clench but can’t, he chokes down any sound but can’t keep it off his face. By the time they get there, he’s drenched in cold sweat and his pulse is dangerously unsteady.

Shiro once again lays him in the pod. “Don’t wake up before you’re ready, this time, okay?” He strokes his hair in parting and reaches up to close the glass over him.

Keith’s hand clumsily grabs his own. “Not without you.”

“What?”

“Get in. I’m not going into cryosleep without you.”

Shiro wasn’t expecting this, but he guesses he should have. He knows Keith will die if doesn’t let the pod help him, but Keith thinks Shiro will die if he leaves him alone. “I promise I won’t… do anything.”

Keith nods, but doesn’t let go. His expression is clear, he’s not relenting.

“It’s not safe for me to sleep next to you. I can’t control the arm.”

“We’ll be frozen,” Keith grits out each word clearly. He’s either going into cryosleep or unconsciousness soon, he won’t be able to stay lucid much longer. “No nightmares. No brain activity.”

Shiro considers. “Okay.” He doesn’t want to waste time until Keith gets even worse, and honestly, a while without his brain on sounds nice.

He gently scoots Keith over and climbs in beside him, closing the pod over them both.

.

They sleep for almost three days and wake up to exasperated chiding. The others didn’t have any idea where they were and searched the whole ship before discovering both of their leaders locked in a cryopod with no additional explanation.

Shiro doesn’t let them get too far into their account before turning to Hunk and Pidge and holding out his right arm. “I want this off.”

That sombers them immediately. The arm-shaped burn had still been clearly visible on Keith when they found them, and it was no mystery where it came from.

Dealing with a prosthetic design flaw is only a small part. Keith consults Coran and they locate a professional of a species especially adept in emotional counseling. After talking it over, Shiro agrees to video sessions, biweekly for a couple of months, then weekly. They help, and they also help him open up to Keith about what he’s going through. The new arm is detachable when he wants.

Slowly, with ups and downs, he works his way toward better.

**Author's Note:**

> Here is an international list of suicide hotlines, should you need them now or ever: http://ibpf.org/resource/list-international-suicide-hotlines


End file.
